Rain
by my.dark.seclusion
Summary: Sasuke's dreams all take place in the rain... [gen][sasukecentric][sad][hints of pairings, but only if you choose to see it that way]


Sasuke is thirteen, and Naruto is screaming at him, his eyes kyuubi-red, and Sasuke can't hear him. Lighting illuminates the darkened sky, throwing his rival's face into sharp relief. Sasuke can't tell whether it's rain on Naruto's face, or tears.

And then everything blurs and they're sitting at Ichiraku, and Sasuke can hear the rain pounding on the roof. Naruto's gazing at Sakura with that sickening adoration written all over his face, but Sasuke refrains from glaring at him because then it would seem like he's jealous of Sakura. Or worse, that he wants Naruto's attention, which he doesn't. Because that's childish and beneath him anyway.

Then Naruto turns towards Sasuke and asks him if he's going to order anything, and Sasuke snorts and looks away.

And then suddenly he's at the training grounds, and Naruto's sprinting towards him through the mist, wielding kunai and shuriken and yelling taunts through the rain. Sasuke dodges his projectiles, but a fat raindrop hits him in the eye at the worst possible moment, and he suddenly finds himself on his back with the idiot sitting on his chest, grinning down at him and breathing hard, rain dripping from his bangs onto Sasuke's face.

The idiot gets up a second later and holds out a hand to help Sasuke out of the mud. Sasuke glares at him, but takes the offered hand (he tries to pretend it doesn't feel like acceptance).

* * *

Sasuke is thirteen, and they're sitting at Ichiraku again. The rain is quieter on the roof this time, and Sakura is sitting next to him instead of Naruto (who is badgering Kakashi-sensei about something or other two seats away). Then suddenly Sakura's hand brushes against his own, which is sitting on the counter, and he jumps slightly and glances at her in surprise. She's staring up at him, blushing, and her eyes are hopeful and frightened and so desperate. He looks away. 

But he doesn't move his hand.

Ten minutes later they're strolling through the drizzle, and Sakura's hand is lightly embracing Sasuke's own. Naruto runs up ahead towards Kakashi-sensei, shouting something about ramen and payment, and Sasuke can't help but roll his eyes. Sakura giggles.

He notices for the first time how warm her hand is (he tries to pretend it doesn't feel like love).

* * *

Sasuke is thirteen, and he's staring at his home through sheets of silver rain. The place where he spent the few years of innocence he was given. The place where Itachi stole Sasuke's everything and took it away, took it far, far away where he can never get it back. 

The thunder booms, and suddenly Sasuke is screaming, and there are no words, just endless pain and suffering and frustration because he's not strong enough. He wasn't then and he's not now, and he doesn't know if he ever will be but he can't stop, can't stop, must keep going, must get stronger, must kill his brother, must avenge his clan, must punish Itachi for stealing his life and his hope and his dreams and his brother, who was half of all of that anyway. And it's not fair. It's not fair and it hurts, and he acts like it doesn't and it kills him even more and—

And a hand is on Sasuke's shoulder and his throat is raw. He stops screaming. He doesn't have to look up to know it is Kakashi standing there.

His teacher's hand is warm as they stand there together in the rain, listening to the thunder rumble in the distance. After several moments, Sasuke looks up, and the split second when their eyes meet is so painful that he cannot hold Kakashi's gaze for more then that moment, and as his eyes drop to the sodden ground, he wonders why it hurts so much (he tries to pretend it's not because Kakashi understands).

* * *

Sasuke is fifteen. He wakes from his dream to the sound of thunder, and it takes him a moment to realize he is in the Sound village, far from Konoha, and Kakashi is no longer standing behind him (Sasuke can still feel his hand on his shoulder). 

He sits for several moments and breathes slowly, listening to the sound of the rain, wondering how long it has been since it's stormed like this. He imagines how the rain would feel on his skin: sharp, stinging, but wet and cool and refreshing all the same. Sighing, he closes his eyes and imagines for several moments.

That way, when he lays back down, he can pretend the wetness on his face is the rain and not tears, because he knows the strong can't cry.

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed it. Review? ;; Please?  
_


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